


Harry Potter and the Ward of Psyche

by Kageriah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Mythology - Freeform, Psyche - Freeform, The Fates - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kageriah/pseuds/Kageriah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We call it magic and they call it energy. What can these 'gods' do with energy that we cannot? And can we ever understand it the way they do? If we can, maybe we can save our species before it is too late. Maybe we can vanquish Voldemort before it is too late with the power one 'god' gives to a man who thought he would be insignificant in the scheme of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What We Would Call Gods

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello, and welcome to my story. Believe it or not, this all came about because I wanted Regulus to live. Then it turned into this complicated spiel on magical theory and gods and whatnot. Hope you like it and here goes:

Chapter 1: What We Would Call Gods

 

I.

 

In the universe, there are many entities mostly unknown to humans or any other sentient mortal. These beings have many names; the ancient Greeks called them gods, the Japanese called them youkai, another race from a planet very far from Earth whose inhabitants will someday be known as the vournicans called them Ilvithea, which roughly translates to "spacewalkers". In fact, many cultures' idols were misinterpretations of these creatures. Contrary to the beliefs of any of these cultures, they are not embodiments of souls, emotions, or objects. They are not all powerful or powerless (they are simply more powerful than any other creature) and they do not simply walk through space. None of them are omniscient and they don't usually meddle in the affairs of other creatures. No, they are flawed creatures as well and are usually more concerned with their own affairs than those of other species.

There are some, however, who stand up for the humans or dolphins or cats or vournicans. Let us call them animal rights activists. These activists will watch over the other species and form attachments. Some even become bestialists, or in kinder terms, zoophiles. One case of this was the love story between Cupid, or Eros (but who was known to his own people simply as Zeith) and a human woman named Psyche. Most of their story is false, including the existence of the woman's sisters and her unattainable beauty.

It is true that Zeith wooed her under the pretence of a lord and it is true that she abandoned him for that deceit. However, many of her hardships were exaggerated and her strength was understated. She was captured by Zeith's beautiful mother, Venus (or Manoi), who hated humans and hated her for stealing her son away. She slaved under the deity's iron fist for years without one thought of suicide and she finally escaped, going back to the house of her love with the help of a kind Chronilan (yet another race almost on par with humans whose only advancement was space travel). There, she found Zeith once more, but she was killed by Manoi before the lovers could consummate their marriage. Zeith would have none of it though, and despite the fact that nothing in his power could save her, Luvith (Jupiter), who always sympathized with the supposed god of love, could. The ancient "god" ripped her soul from her body and created a new body for it, one of his own kind.

Psyche became one of these creatures - one of The Powers That Be, as it were. She, unlike her now husband, wasn't empathetic and couldn't control emotions, but she could see and sometimes manipulate life itself. The abilities that accompanied these creatures were confusing at best and downright befuddling to anyone of a different culture. It's hard to explain exactly what they were.

Basically, there is what wizards call magic and the gods and scientists call energy. It runs through the bodies of all creatures, not just those who can use it. It is present in every single element. It is similar to blood in that nobody would be able to survive without it. Their skin wouldn't turn a ghostly pale without it, but they would not be able to move or feel or live.

But that is the obvious part. What most do not know is that some have the ability to control this energy. Some, like Zeith, can control select parts, like the energy that sends electrical impulses through the brain to form emotions. Psyche can see how energy has interacted, is interacting, and will interact, and sometimes she can manipulate that energy. When she does this, she must expend her own energy, which intertwines with the energy of the fate she has meddled with. Luvith can manipulate most energy in whichever way he wishes.

The power of wizards echoes that of the gods. Wizards don't always have a limit - those who can apparate simply convert matter to energy, move the energy, and reform as matter. Wizards who actually pull doves out of hats just convert energy into the matter they wish to create. This trick is called conjuring simply because they do not understand the science behind the magic. They do not understand it, and therefore cannot control their powers to the best of their ability. Psyche was of the firm belief that if they did learn more, they would be on their way to joining her kind in the ranks of gods. That's why she believed she should help them.

Psyche became somewhat of a poster girl for animal rights. She especially supported the humans, but she rarely intervened, as it was not socially acceptable to do so. Eventually she became disenchanted with this creed of noninterference, so she decided that at the right moment, she would impose her will on the tapestry of fate.

 

II.

 

In the latter half of the twentieth century, the wizarding world was spiralling into a war that would ravage most of Britain if people weren't careful. Which they weren't. A young man, more of a boy, really, had been struggling between his beliefs and those of his family for a long time. Some would say he was too much of a coward to back out of the Dark Lord's service or go against his family's will (Sirius Black in particular), but only two knew otherwise. One knew because he too was becoming disillusioned with the Dark Lord's work. Due to this, he would, in his last moments, strengthen the wards of the house against any death eater besides his son, never knowing that the threat of death would come from within his own household, rather than outside it. Yes, Walburga Black would get away with murdering her own husband.

On the other hand, a house elf knew because he was the confidant and only friend of the young man.

Regulus told Kreacher about the horcruxes immediately after he learned of the dark objects that Voldemort created. He formulated a plan to get one of them, but he brought Kreacher not just to help him, but also as insurance in case he died. So when the inferi attacked him, he knew he had to order Kreacher to leave.

"Kreacher, go!" he said. The little elf shook his head fervently and tried to pull Regulus away from the inferi, but his master pushed him away with his free hand. "Go! I don't want you to die too! I order you to leave and destroy that horcrux! And don't tell anyone - not mother, not the Dark Lord, no one! If either calls you, don't answer!"

He was pulled underwater and only resurfaced for a moment to say: "Go, Kreacher. And - and stay safe, my friend!"

Then he was pulled under.

The elf popped out of existence and was remade in his little storage room. He cried for a long time to mourn his poor master, the only master who was ever kind to him.

But Regulus wasn't dead yet. He still had enough energy to watch the light disappear as he was dragged further down.

 

III.

 

Psyche saw this boy, who looked so much like Zeith's mortal form, and decided that this was it. This was the moment she had been waiting for and she would prevent this death, if it was the only thing she could do to help in this war. So she located his sinking string and pulled as hard as she could, unweaving the end of his cord and winding it the way she wanted it before leaving the rest to tangle in itself.

 

IV.

 

When Regulus woke from his traumatic adventure, he was lying on a sandy shore staring at a pair of flipped boots. Or maybe it was the fact that he was on his back, looking up, that made them upside down.

"Well, well, if it isn't Regulus Black. Although, I doubt I should add the 'Black' anymore, seeing as you have dishonored our entire family with your actions today," said a snobby, female voice.

Regulus followed the boots - but then stopped. He didn't want to look up Bella's robes. That would be utterly disgusting and would probably kill him all over again.

"I - I'm not dead?" he said.

Bella smirked. "Fifty house points for the big boy! Tell me when you figured that out. Was it the distinct lack of burning and screams?"

"Actually, B, with you being here━━━"

"Don't finish that sentence!" Bellatrix sneered at both the nickname and the unfinished thought. "Anyway, I'm not here to chat. I've got to take you back to the Dark Lord. He'll be wanting to... chat with you."

She grabbed the back of his cloak, hauling him to his feet, wrapping the same arm around his shoulders, and jabbing her wand at his neck. "Try anything and you'll be dead before you can say 'My Lord'."

The world disappeared and when Regulus could see again, he was in a large drawing room. The Dark Lord was sitting at the head of the table in the commodius chamber Regulus assumed belonged to the Malfoys. After all, who else would be so ostentatious and decadent?

Bella shoved him down at the monster's disgusting feet. "I brought him to you, my lord."

"Ah, good work, Bellatrix. You may leave."

Bellatrix hesitate for a brief moment before kicking Regulus in the side with her pointy toed boot and stalking out of the room and into the hallway beyond.

The serpentlike man's presence dominated the room and Regulus couldn't keep his eyes away. He didn't even notice the two Death Eaters standing at the door. All he could focus on was the different flashing lights he kept seeing around the Dark Lord. He could see flashes of images, each one showing different people: a young, handsome man with black hair, an older man with the same hair and red eyes, Voldemort as he is now, wisps of magic surrounding a repulsive likeness of a baby, a diadem - was that Ravenclaw's? - an even more serpentine man. God, they were flashing so quickly and what did it mean?

"Regulus," said the crude depiction of a serpent. "I am very disappointed in you."

Regulus met his eyes and flinched away, but he forced himself to maintain eye contact. The crimson eyes seemed to bore into his skull and he knew the Dark Lord would be trying to knock down his legilimency shields. But he had learned Occlumency from Snape back at Hogwarts and this man was no match for the dark haired man's skills.

See, the key is not burying the secrets underneath layers and layers of other memories and thoughts. That's like leaving a map in your mind. If you've thought about where you hid it, then that thought will be floating around unguarded and anyone can use it to find the answers. No, you had to use subterfuge and deflection. You had to compartmentalize. The best way was to build a landscape in your mind. Snape, and therefore Regulus, prefered a maze. Regulus had built a strong, three dimensional system of caves to map out his mind, with different stages of his life in each chamber. Some chambers were dedicated to subjects like potions and arithmancy and ancient runes. He left decoy thoughts all over stating where the knowledge he wanted to keep hidden would be and all of these led to traps that could trap Voldemort in his mind forever. The hidden truths weren't even kept in the maze (something Snape had taught him - always, always have a backup plan). They were concealed in memories in another maze* - not the deepest maze in his mind, of course, because that was too obvious. No, it was in the third maze (as three is a strong magical number).

Voldemort was weaving through the very first maze still, and he was too impatient, so he whipped himself out of Regulus' head and snarled. "You learned from the best, obviously."

Regulus mustered up the courage to smirk at the self taught legilimens through the muddle of images he saw wherever he looked. "And you definitely didn't."

The Dark Lord chose to ignore this statement. "Well, young Mr. Black, it seems we will have to do this the hard way."

Regulus snorted. How cliche. "Why even bother? I'm not going to tell you anything."

It was Voldemort's turn to smirk, "I think you'll find yourself questioning that statement after you see what we have prepared for you. Crucio!"

Regulus' world and all of his befuddlement disappeared in a haze of pain.

 

V.

 

When Luvith called her, Psyche didn't think she had anything to worry about. After all, her kind never monitored the proceedings of humanity, so how would they know what she had done?

However, when she arrived in his presence, she saw his significant frown and almost doubled back. She didn't want to face the brunt of Luvith's fury, after all. But she then straightened up, held her head high, and advanced.

"You summoned, my lord?" She said, unaware of how similar she sounded to a Death Eater at that moment.

Luvith glared at her before waving his hand in a simple pattern. The profile of Regulus Black appeared before her. She almost blanched, but she held her composure. Luvith caught her panic, though.

"I gather that you know this man," he said.

Her heart began to beat rapidly, but she still kept up her mask. "I may have seen him once or twice in my travels on Earth."

The old deity swiped the image out of the way and approached Psyche. "Let me rephrase: I know you have been meddling in this man's affairs. I know you ripped his death out of the tapestry! The Fates told me!"

"M-My lord, I can━━"

He cut her off, "Don't try to explain your way out of this. Tell me in simple terms what you think gave you the right to intervene in this man's life!"

"What life? The man was dying! He had no life left! I gave him one!" She said.

"Oh, you gave him a life. So what are you, his savior? Do you think you can collect on that debt later?"

She was astounded at his accusations. "Of course not! He was just so young! I couldn't let him die when he had so much left to do."

"No, he didn't! It was his time to die! Don't you think that maybe the energy that vacated his body would have been used for something else?"

"But wouldn't that energy have been wasted if he didn't do something with his life?"

"He did do something with the time he had. It is not enough that he had to die for his task to be completed, is it? No, you go and play god and now he has to suffer for it!"

She didn't even register the second half of his sentence. "Play god? Play god? I am a god! I had the right to help him!"

SMACK.

Her head whipped to the side so fast she barely had time to think. She turned back to Luvith, astonished that he had slapped her. "You... you..? Why did you do that?"

He stared at her, disappointment prominent in his gaze. "I can't believe you, of all people, would say that. You should know that we are no gods."

"B-but━━"

"But nothing. You know that we all have as many, if not more, faults as any other species. We may be the most powerful, but we must use that power responsibly. You can't try to control people's lives. How would you appreciate if someone were controlling yours?"

"My life is being controlled, though! The Fates have power over everything that will happen! That includes my life! The tapestry is already woven, so this had to happen!"

Luvith smiled as one would at a confused child. "My dear, you do not understand what the Fates' duty is, it seems. The Fates aren't steering the course of the future. They are weaving history. They are omniscient, but they have pledged an oath of neutrality so they cannot interfere with the course of history, but they can record it so that we all can learn from these mistakes."

"But they can change everything! They can help everyone! What evils have they already allowed to happen? How could they do that?"

Luvith sighed. "Do you know how much worse things would be if they intervened? These mistakes that all creatures make, these evils that come to pass, would repeat even more often than they already do because creatures would not learn from their mistakes, they would just be forced to live peacefully, and all sentient life was made to rebel against such systems."

Psyche tried to find something to dispute in his statement, but she couldn't. "Regulus... what's happened to him? You said he was suffering more...?"

"Yes. There is another point. When you tamper with the tapestry, you must be extremely careful. You must keep track of everything you have changed and weave the string into its new course with as few adjustments as possible. But you, my dear, simply yanked his death out of the fabric and let it weave itself back in. You left him to deal with the consequences of your rash actions."

"What's happening to him?"

Luvith wrapped his arm around the childlike woman and drew her close. He waved his other arm in front of him and an image of Regulus writhing appeared in front of them.

 

VI.

 

The last thing Regulus remembered through the cacophony of images was his torturer demanding Lucius ask Severus for a bottle from his supply of Veritaserum. The blonde had disappeared for a minute, and when he reappeared, he told Voldemort that he was sorry, but Severus' supply had just been depleted when he questioned Thomas Burke, assistant to the Minister of Magic, about the whereabouts of Azkaban. Voldemort shouted and in a childish fit of temper cursed Regulus using Sectumsempra. Due to fatigue, nerve damage, confusion, and blood loss, Regulus shuddered and collapsed into blissful darkness.

When he woke, he was in a dark and dank cell. He could hear nothing but the pitter patter of what was presumably water dripping somewhere, and he could see the crack of light that shone from under the door and a few stones on the floor and a whirlwind of different images relating to each of those stones and the door and - god, what was going on?

"Well damn it all," he said, sighing and shifting his weight, trying to find a comfortable position.

Unfortunately, it seemed the world was against him. He didn't really know how to get out of this. He just hoped Kreacher was safe and the horcrux was destroyed.

He knew that Kreacher would be safe for a month; that was roughly how long it took to brew veritaserum. It really was pure luck that Thomas Burke had used it all up. Without that threat, he had a month to figure out what was wrong with him and how to get himself out of his new prison and home to Kreacher.

Tap.

Regulus froze. Was that a footstep?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Yes, someone was coming down the stairs. Was it the Dark Lord? Oh, he hoped it wasn't the Dark Lord.

The door swung open and the bright light of an illuminated wand nearly blinded him. Once his eyes assimilated, he looked at the one behind the wand.

"Hello, Lucius."

"Regulus..." said the blond man, who had once been as fond of the black haired boy as Lucius Malfoy could be of anyone. His eye bore into the younger man's with an indiscernible look on his face. "I just wanted to understand."

Regulus smiled ruefully. "Understand what, Lucius? Why I did what I did?"

Lucius, who never once faltered, almost - almost - stuttered. He didn't seem to know what to say in the face of his wife's favorite cousin. Or maybe it was uncertainty Regulus saw in a younger Lucius. Or the older, gaunt, and scared Lucius.

The man spoke and snapped the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black's heir out of his reverie. "You of all people should be loyal to the Dark Lord. Why did you decide to betray him?"

Regulus laughed. "Why shouldn't I have? He's a lunatic and I've known it the entire time I served him. It's only recently that I've gained the courage to stand up against him."

"Do not speak of our lord in that way!"

"Why not? You know it as well as I do. All he wants is bloodshed. He doesn't care for any one of your ideals of blood purity. He just wants revenge on the world he thinks wronged him, and you're an idiot for not recognizing it."

All the Luciuses snarled at him at once. It was a rather daunting sight, but Regulus stood his ground. "You are the fool! I know what the Dark Lord stands for━━"

"Do you? Do you really?"

Lucius looked affronted. "Of course I do. And while his ways may be more extreme than my family's has been in the past, I believe he will succeed one day."

All the response he elicited from Regulus was a scoff. "You don't honestly believe that, do you? You know he'll never succeed. He has so many strong wizards against him, including that despicable Dumbledore."

"You deem Dumbledore despicable, but you refuse to follow the Dark Lord," Lucius stated, confused.

"I may not like Dumbledore, but that doesn't mean I will gallivant around, bowing to his enemies. Especially one as foolish as V-Volde━━"

A cold voice cut into the conversation and another vivid flash of images clashed with Lucius'. "'As foolish as Voldemort'? Is that what you were going to say?" said the snake nosed man.

Regulus stared, but his high upbringing and pride refused to let him simply gawk. He raised his chin and said, "Yes. Precisely," he smirked. "To quote Bella, 'Fifty house points for Slytherin!"

No one laughed. "So. You believe me to be... foolish, do you? May I ask why?"

"You are obviously not intelligent enough to see your own faults, but why should I deprive you of the learning experience? You'll just have to figure that out on your own."

The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees as Voldemort stalked forward with steely eyes latched onto his prey. "No matter. You obviously do not understand that of which you speak. Or the consequences of your actions!" He whisked out his wand. "Crucio!"

 

VII.

 

Lucius strode a little behind Voldemort as a sign of deference, pondering his wife's upcoming reaction to Regulus' betrayal.

"Lucius," rasped the Dark Lord as he stopped.

"Yes, my lord?" Lucius abruptly halted behind the snake like leader of the Death Eaters.

"Spread the word... Spread the word that this is what happens when you betray He-who-must-not-be-named."

"My lord?"

"Tell all my Death Eaters of the ramifications of betrayal, lest they take the coward's way out. If you detect one hint of hesitance in my followers, inform them of their other option. Recount the death of the weakling, Regulus Black."


	2. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Funerals, all around!

Chapter 2: Fallout

I.

Sirius stared vacantly at the glass of firewhiskey sitting in front of him, counting the bubbles to distract himself from everything. To his right sat Remus and Peter, and to his left sat James and Lily. 

It had happened almost twenty days ago, but he was only informed now, the day before the funeral. He had received an owl not ten minutes ago from his father with a brief explanation from his father, interrupting his perfect day. 

He and James were talking about all the adventures they’d bring his son or daughter on and all the games they could play with magic. Remus was sitting with Lily and mumbling about how silly James and Sirius were. Peter pitched in every few seconds to defend one of them. It had been an easy day and they had just come from an order meeting. Fortunately, there was no bad news to be distributed, so everyone left in a relatively good mood. It was November ninth, an insignificant day on which nothing unpleasant or particularly pleasant occurred, and the five friends were enjoying that fact. Then James looked past him.

“Sirius, is that..?” James pointed to the window. Sirius turned to see what he was gesturing to and was surprised to find the Black family owl, Pendragon (odd that they’d name it after a muggle), perched on the window sill. It looked almost disdainfully around the small room, taking the cream floor and the brown furniture in stride before cocking its head and stretching its leg out as regally as it could. 

Sirius reached out and unfurled the string and letter from the pet’s leg with trepidation. Who was it from? His father? His mother? ...Regulus? The last was the only one he wouldn’t be averse to hearing from. 

He slowly opened the envelope, ignoring the Black seal and dropping it absentmindedly to the ground. 

 

Sirius Pollux Black,  
It is with the deepest regret that I inform you that your younger brother,  
Regulus Arcturus Black, was killed on October 21st, 1979. He was murdered by  
a man most would not name for fear of the taboo. You will have to interrogate  
a Death Eater to acquire the entire anecdote.  
Please note that you are not welcome at the funeral as your mother would most  
likely have a heart attack. For your own safety, keep away.  
Sincerely,  
Orion Black

 

‘Your younger brother, Regulus Arcturus Black, was killed on October 21st...’ He was killed. Regulus, little Reggie was━━

“Sirius?” asked James. 

Sirius turned to him, almost looking right through his best friend as his mind tried to cope with this shocking news. 

“What is it?” asked his friend. 

Sirius laughed humorlessly. “Same old father, succinct and snarky and always so horribly blunt.” 

He tossed the letter down on the coffee table and headed across the room to the kitchen’s island, plopping himself in one of the bar stools. 

James bent down and read the letter quickly before turning back to him, brown eyes wide under circular glasses. “Regulus... he was killed?”

Remus gasped and all eyes went to Sirius.

“Yes, by a man most fear to name... obviously, he means Voldemort k-killed my little brother!” he ran a hand through his already damp hair and rubbed his face with his palms. 

Lily stood and walked over to the kitchen area, pulling a glass out of the cupboard and a bottle out of the back. She set the glass down in front of Sirius, pouring the fiery liquid Sirius. 

The exiled Black laughed hysterically. “Y-You’ve snagged yourself one smart woman, P-Prongs!”

The couple in question shared a look over his head as Peter and Remus came over and sat on Sirius’ right. James sat to his left and Lily took a place next to her husband. 

“Merlin, mate, I’m so sorry.”

Sirius stared at the glass before reaching out with a shaky hand to grasp it. He brought it to his mouth and downed it in three gulps so he wouldn’t have to say anything for a moment. 

“Don’t be... I mean, goddamnit, my little brother is dead and everyone should be sorry, but... I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him properly in seven years, since he started Hogwarts. Argh, I’ve been a terrible brother! He became a Death Eater and I couldn’t stop him. Hell, he probably became a Death Eater to fulfil our family’s requirement and I estranged him because I didn’t understand that not everyone is strong enough to turn away from their family! If I’d helped him━━”

“Sirius, it’s not your fault. In the end, it was his decision, and what he chose━━” Remus started.

“What he chose was what led to his death. Don’t you think anyone who can make a difference in those circumstances should? I should have just talked to him...”

Remus and Lily shared a look, unsure of how to deal with this, so James cut in. “Padfoot, blaming yourself is going to do nothing... I know nothing is going to make you feel better about this, so I’m not going to say anything but this: your father is an arse for delivering the news this way and I think we should make it up to him by going to the funeral.”

Sirius looked at him incredulously. “No way! There will be Death Eaters everywhere!”

Lily sighed and shook her head at James’ idiocy before saying, “Sirius is right! We would be slaughtered on the spot, despite all that high class etiquette. Not that you could say Bellatrix possesses much in the way of manners.”

Peter chimed in now, “W-well, we could go after the funeral. I know it wouldn’t be great because you wouldn’t get to see the bo━━your brother one last time, but at least you could visit his grave.”

Sirius breathed in deeply and released a short breath. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Wormtail. Let’s go━━I mean, I’ll go, and you can come if you want to━━after the funeral. Maybe I can give my father a two fingered salute while I’m at it.”

II. 

It was a quiet procession, Regulus’ funeral. It wasn’t exactly how Orion imagined burying his son. Maybe that’s because Orion never imagined burying his son before. He thought that maybe it would happen when Sirius was younger because he incurred the wrath of Walburga too often━━not that Orion would ever let it go that far. Regardless of his treatment of them, he truly did love his sons and he would have given anything to save his heir. 

The black casket did nothing to elaborate on Regulus’ character. Orion personally thought they should have burned his son with all of his belongings: his journal, his ring, his house elf (Orion would have gladly given up Kreacher if it meant his son could rest in peace), and his dress robes. Not that they would have flattered the son he was burying today. No, they had to have a closed casket funeral because the body of his son was so burnt and mutilated that it was almost impossible to recognize him. Only his ring, height, and teeth gave away his heritage. 

Next to Orion, Walburga stood, motionless and beautiful as a Greek statue. She did not cry or show any sign of sorrow at her son’s death. Walburga was the type of woman who cared for the family name more than her own children, so she only attended the funeral for propriety. 

There were only two others at the funeral: Severus Snape, who had come because he had sometimes mentored the young man, and Barty Crouch Jr. Crouch, who was there because he had to speak with Orion and Walburga after the funeral to make sure their support for the Dark Lord wouldn’t falter. And it wouldn’t, as far as anyone but Orion was concerned. 

But he refused to let Death Eaters slowly eat away at his fortune and use his house for secret meetings. As much as he detested muggles and muggle borns, he despised the Dark Lord and his crudity even more. And he detested his wife’s allegiance to the cause. He had gone to Gringotts and changed the parameters on his vault and had then rewritten his will, leaving everything to Regulus, but in the case that Regulus was dead, the family vaults would be closed off to Walburga and anyone else until the next heir came along. The next heir could only be Sirius Black’s son, according to Orion’s will, so he was playing an immense gamble, and if Sirius Black had no son, the line would end and the vaults and house would be sealed forever. Of course, this is where his and his son’s wills were in discord. Regulus left all of his belongings to Kreacher, making Kreacher a free elf with claim to the Black family fortune through his former master. 

Orion wasn’t sure he was exactly happy with that, but it was better than Voldemort having any claim to his money. 

It might have been disrespectful to contemplate the future of the Black family fortune at his son’s funeral, but Orion was never one for societal boundaries. He had kept his emotions hidden behind a mask for so long that he had learned to control them completely. And as they levitated Regulus’ coffin into the ground, Orion’s frown grew into an almost mournful and sullen look. If someone truly knew Orion Black, he or she would know that this was as close as he would get to throwing himself on his son’s dead body and wailing. 

III. 

If anyone had looked past Regulus’ burial and further into the graveyard, they would have seen five young people watching the goings-on in silence. The man in the middle had his hand on the shoulder of the man to his left. They all knew that this would be hard for Sirius Black, but that it was something he had to do. 

Once the small company of mourners left, they meandered slowly towards the grave. Sirius had eyes only for his brother’s name, carved into the marble headstone. 

He marveled, as many have before, at the idea that his brother, who had been such a complex person, had been reduced to a few words etched into stone and a corpse rotting six feet under. 

This was what his brother was degraded to. The brother who had snuck into his room on nights when his mother had been particularly cruel to cheer him up, even though he barely understood what was going on. The boy who would have happily befriended everyone he met if not for his family’s views. The boy who tried to make a cake for his birthday with Kreacher and blew up the kitchen. The boy who helped him play tricks on Bellatrix whenever their cousin visited. The boy who had argued in his defense when his parents threatened to disown him. The boy who looked at him sadly, missing the days when they could be brothers to each other, when he thought Sirius wasn’t looking.

And only four people had shown up to that beautiful boy’s funeral. 

He dropped to his knees in front of the headstone, but he didn’t say anything; he just traced the name for a few moments. 

“I just... can’t believe he’s gone.”


	3. Fallout - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort gets angry, Sirius gets depressed, and Orion gets in trouble.

Chapter 3: Fallout - Part 2

 

I.

 

Cruciatus wasn’t enough, apparently. No, bone grinding and crushing spells were favorites, and he was never averse to an old fashioned lashing spell. He was almost at wit’s end. Part of him wanted to give up and tell Voldemort, but he knew he couldn’t do that. That would be betraying everything he now believed in. Sometimes he felt like a fool, though, because not long ago, he was standing among the Dark Lord’s minions, inventing different spells. Some of those spells were now being used on him. He found the irony mildly amusing.

Just as he found the little Sirius running around him mildly amusing and the gory scenes he saw whenever he looked at anything besides his hands petrifying. Merlin, he didn’t think he could handle many more of these images.

But mildly amusing things hefted a great deal of importance as they seemed to brighten up this dark and dank dungeon. Regulus wasn’t like most prisoners, he thought. Sure, the pain was something he didn’t look forward to, and eventually it would wind its way through his cold exterior and learn to truly terrify him. However, he didn’t derive a brief respite from the silent hours when he was left alone. In truth, he found it utterly boring. But Regulus always had a hard time finding interesting things to monopolize his time.

So he had taken to thinking quite a lot. He had gone through so many topics, from training his mind into creating puzzles that another part of his mind would decipher to figuring out how to become invisible using runic magic. He spent a lot of time thinking about the flashes of images he saw and had concluded when he looked at his own hand that he was seeing visions of the past, present, and future and they wouldn’t stop. They just kept going and going and going and━━Voldemort couldn’t get ahold of this power or they’d all be doomed. He had thought long and hard about how to escape, but he had come to a stand still.

There were wards that guarded the cell he was in. Voldemort had cast an anti-disapparition jinx. As hard as disapparating without a wand was, he had tried it. He was pretty sure the evil man would have put up an anti-apparition spell as well. Colloportus, of course, had been cast. He had still tried it, obviously. Simply forgetting that would allow him to escape. Lucius had most likely cast the Fidelius on the entire cellar and he didn’t think the house elves who delivered his food would be willing to give anyone the location.

Luckily, they hadn’t placed a glisseo charm on the stairs. The door was too heavy to break, though, and an unbreakable charm may have been cast. And Merlin knew he wasn’t going to dislocate his shoulder trying to disprove that.

It wasn’t like he had the energy to get up anyway. Voldemort had made sure of that... and speaking of he-who-must-be-hyphenated, look who decided to show up at the stairwell!

“V-Voldy! How ni-nice to see you again!” he said as cheerfully as he could while watching the man torture a muggle on the ground in front of him.

Voldemort curled his lip and spat his words, “You won’t be in such a good mood for long.”

Regulus just smiled grossly, “I’m not so su-sure. I mean with your b-b-bright and bubbly disposition, what could possibly bring me down?”

“This,” said the Dark Lord, lifting his sleeve covered hand and revealing a phial of clear liquid. Severus was ladling the liquid into the glass container and he was brewing the potion, dropping ingredients Regulus didn’t recognize into the cauldron that he was stirring five different potions in and the cauldron was being spun on a wheel as the maker made the final touches and his son ran around it and how was Severus still making the potions when the cauldron wasn’t even finished and━━focus.

When he did, Regulus’ stomach immediately dropped six feet under, to where it was supposed to be.

“Th-That’s━━”

“Veritaserum. Severus brewed it and after this long wait, it’s finally finished.”

Oh hell, why couldn’t Severus have had some fatal accident before it was complete? Then Voldemort would have just gotten someone else to finish the potion. Well, it seemed his time was up. He couldn’t exactly keep quiet; the potion didn’t just make you tell the truth - it compelled you to speak honestly. There was a portion of the potion that induced babbling.

He didn’t bother scrambling backwards when Voldemort stalked up to him and a younger version of the man stopped to tie his shoe. He just let the inevitable happen and tried not to gag as the almost inhuman male shoved the potion down his throat. He felt it slide down his throat and began to tingle as the elixir took effect.

“Now, tell me. What were you doing at the lake where Bellatrix found you?”  
“I-I was━━no, no━━stealing your horcrux,” there, he said it.

Voldemort’s eyes widened as though he had thought it was just a coincidence that Regulus had washed up on that shore right after he betrayed the Dark Lord.

“How did you know about them?”

Them? There were multiple horcruxes? Regulus stored that information in the back of his mind to contemplate later. “It wasn’t hard to figure out, since I actually listened to your boasts. You said your soul wouldn’t die, so I researched magic having to do with the soul and looked for the nastiest spell you could perform and there it was, a go to guide on how to turn into a wretched beast. You know, you really shouldn’t be so arro━━”

“Enough! Tell me what you did with the horcrux! Tell me now!” shouted Voldemort as he grabbed the collar of Regulus’ robes and slammed him against the wall.

Regulus grunted as the wall rubbed against his lashes, but it didn’t stop him from talking.

“I gave it to Kreacher. I told him to go because I thought I was going to die. You won’t find him!”

Voldemort smiled an eerie smile and stalked out over to the stairs.

No! He was going to go after Kreacher and who knew if the poor house elf could stay in hiding for as long as Voldemort would search. He had to say something━━anything━━to help his friend. But he had to trust Kreacher to be able to take care of himself... didn’t he? His head hurt more than usual.

He looked around the room for distractions and saw them in everything. There were dozens of time streams whirling about and he learned that if he focused on one, he could see what happened.

It seemed as though multiple Voldemorts were in the room shouting and saying random things, but he looked at a boy, a good looking boy who didn’t appear anything like the disgusting man he was now, and concentrated. Snapshots of memories blurred by and in the center sat a little boy with a knife. He was cutting the hair off a doll’s head when an old woman burst into the small, grey room. “Stop, Tom!” She said.

“Stop, Tom!” Regulus repeated. Tom, was that his name? Tom what?

Voldemort had frozen, his right foot on the first step. He turned slowly, eyes wider than Regulus had ever seen them and face frozen in a mask of fury.

“What did you just say?”

The veritaserum forced him to say, “Stop, Tom!”

“How... HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT NAME?!” he bellowed.

Oh no... “I-I saw it.”

“Where, in a memory?”

Regulus didn’t know, and even though the potion wanted him to admit that, he wouldn’t. He had to keep as much as he could to himself.

“WELL? WHERE DID YOU LEARN IT?!”

Regulus flinched and the compulsion followed Voldemort’s demand. “I-I saw them in a vision.”

“A vision of the past?” demanded the angry man.

Regulus gulped. “Yes.”

“And where did this vision come from?”

“I don’t know. I just know that I can see everything━━the past, present, and future. I can see everything.”

Voldemort suddenly smirked coldly. “Well... it looks like we may have a use for you after all.”

 

II.

 

Sirius remembered the last time he saw his brother, in seventh year. They were sitting at the last feast of the year. James and Lily had just announced that they were going to get married next year and that Sirius was their best man. He was ecstatic, really, and he couldn’t remember a time he had been as happy and nostalgic as he had been that night.

He looked over at the Slytherin table for some reason and saw Snivellus sulking and next to him was Regulus. Regulus looked up at him and they shared a glance before Remus pulled Sirius’ attention away. It was so insignificant, that moment, in the grand scheme of things. But for Sirius, it would be his last ever contact with his brother, the Death Eater. His brother, who apparently died running away from You-Know-Who because he was a coward and wanted to back out. If he had known his brother would be dying almost one and a half years later, he would have done something. What, he didn’t know. Maybe he would have approached his brother and hugged him one last time, said something meaningful that would have made him reconsider his position as a Death Eater, simply nodded at him, or just stared some more. His eyes would have traced every line on that boys face, every blemish, every mislaid hair and every single emotion that ran through his brother’s eyes.

But Sirius was a terrible brother. His family abandoned him, so he abandoned them. How childish it seemed now that he had cast off his brother just because he wanted to please their mother. Sirius was always the brother she praised before he had “turned” so Regulus was always trying to prove himself. That was the reason he had become a Death Eater. That was the reason he had stayed.

It was agony, now, thinking of his brother. It felt like a hand had reached into his chest and grabbed his heart, and it squeezed every time he thought of Regulus. Sometimes when that happened, he drank his way into oblivion just to forget his sadness. He knew it was stupid and he should just carry on with his life, but it was hard when he kept replaying every moment he had spent with his brother.

But deep down, he wondered if his brother wasn’t better off dead. If he were alive, he would either be a Death Eater. If not, he would be on the run for the rest of his life, or the end of the war.

He felt terribly immoral for thinking such thoughts, but to err is human, as he heard Dumbledore say once, and he was nothing if not human. Just as his brother was. Sirius thought maybe he understood his brother more now, after his death more than he ever did when the boy was alive.

 

III.

 

Orion Black never wanted to marry Walburga. He knew that, she knew that. Their marriage was one arranged by two blood purist relatives hoping for good breeding. Well, that tells what they knew. Sirius was a blood traitor and Regulus was━━Regulus...

Now he was dead, and Orion blamed himself and his wife. He never thought he would regret his elitist beliefs, but now he knew how dangerous they were. He had gotten his son killed by forcing these ideas into his head. He had inadvertently pushed his boy into joining the Death Eaters.

But he would follow what he assumed was Regulus’ last wish and completely desert the Death Eaters. He strengthened the wards against intruders, especially Death Eaters, and he had already pulled his funds from the group without his wife’s knowledge.

Speaking of his wife, she had been very distant and cold━━more so than usual. Had she found out?

“I know you’re there,” he said to his seemingly empty office.

A shadow near the bookcase moved and detached itself from the darkness. It was Walburga. She was, as usual, beautiful as Aphrodite herself. Draped in black, however, she could only be a wraith come to haunt him.

“Hello, dear husband,” she said in her cruel voice.

Orion nodded. “Good evening, Walburga.”

“I’ve heard something interesting from a friend of mine.”

That, of course, meant her beloved Dark Lord. He smirked. So they had finally figured it out. “A friend? Who might that be? And what is it you have heard of me?”

Walburga proceeded towards his desk, slipping behind it and him and placing her hands on his shoulders.

“Don’t play with me, Orion. You know as well as I do what I’m talking about.”

Orion shrugged. “No, frankly, I don’t.”

Walburga tightened her grip on his shoulders almost painfully. “I’m talking about the money! Why have you stopped sponsoring the Dark Lord’s cause?”

“Well, my dear, I do not see how his goal and mine coincide anymore. He is merely a mass murderer, and I am a blood purist. There’s a difference.”

Her nails began to stab him, even through his shirt. “What do you mean, ‘mass murderer’? The Dark Lord has agreed with all of our views! He has not been doing what we haven’t been able to! He’s ridding this world of those pathetic muggles!”

Orion snorted. “Then why is he attacking purebloods? The Wrights? The McKinnons? Those were both old families━━”

“They were muggle sympathizers!”

“And that is okay! I don’t mind having muggle sympathizers in our society because at the rate he is going, there will be no purebloods left! And I don’t think we need to eradicate muggles entirely; that would be impossible. There are billions of them. We just need them out of the wizarding world because magic is stronger in pureblood lines and I don’t want magic dying out! That is the reason for my beliefs, not because I think the muggles deserve to be wiped out because they can’t do magic! I’m not like our fathers in that regard.”

“The muggles are a blemish on the face of this planet! They are fools who don’t even know magic exists and they’re too unintelligent to even understand it! They would be nowhere without us there to help them with our magic!” Walburga retorted. But her argument was ignorant and he told her so.

“Muggles would be fine without us! They’ve got their science and they’ve got ways of dealing with their problems that we couldn’t fix without magic! They get by just fine. More than fine, actually. They’re more technologically advanced and half of our inventions come from muggles! We would be nowhere without them. And this discussion━━which is not even a discussion because you refuse to acknowledge my point━━is over. I have work to do.”

Walburga sighed. “It seems that you’re beyond help, my husband.”

Suddenly, a sharp, deep pain throbbed in his back and he spasmed as he felt warm blood trickle down and soak his shirt. “Wal━━Walburga!”

It was a knife. She had stabbed him. “I’m sorry, dear, but I can’t let you ruin my reputation.”

“Guh━━Guh,” He grunted as she twisted the knife before grabbing the chair and toppling it. He groaned as he hit the floor and fell out of his seat. His back sang with pain and he could hardly feel anything other than the blood pouring out of his wound.

He rolled onto his stomach, though, despite his pain. He slowly pushed himself to his knees, but Walburga stepped on his back and pushed him━━hard━━onto the floor. She dug her heel into his injury.

But he could do this one last thing with his final few breaths. “Walb-Walburga Black, you ha-have been found guilty of disregarding the family above personal interests.”

“No! Silencio!” Walburga cast the spell, but it was too late. The family magics had already surrounded him to do his will.

“You are UNWORTHY! Y-you do not des-deserve to be protected by these magics and they sh-shall not do your bidding anym-more! You must fend for your-yourself now, because you are c-cast out! I renounce your claim to the Black fortune or name..”

He coughed harshly and he could feel his eyelids begin to sag and his world become darker. He reached for something only he could see; his son, his dead son, reaching to him. His hand was stretched out to help his father up and he smiled. “I’m-I’m sorry, my son...”

And with a shattered, guttural cough, Orion Black said goodbye to the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I could think of at the end was Thor.


	4. Fallout - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walburga angers Sirius, Regulus goes through shit, Psyche learns, and Walburga angers Sirius.

Chapter 4: Fallout - Part 3

 

I.

 

Sirius sat at the booth in a nice restaurant called Ma chérie. It was a high class French place, one he had only gone to once when his parents were celebrating an anniversary. Regulus had bumped into a waiter and spilled wine over both of them.

The individual already seated barely restrained a glare. She had already ordered her drink and food, as he had said he’d meet her an hour ago.

“Hello,” he said as he situated himself. “Walburga.”

It had been almost a month since he received the news of his brother’s death and now she decided to meet with him. Why? He did not know.

Walburga glanced down at her food and then back to him. “Hello, son.”

Son? She hadn’t called him that since he was 14. “Well, what is it you wanted? I don’t have much time. You flooed at a bad time.” That was a lie. He was totally free until tomorrow.

“Your father is dead,” she said, as if she expected it to be a shock.

“I know,” he said, “I read it in the paper. Stabbed in the back, wasn’t he?”

Walburga looked down at her food again. “I just... I am so alone in that old house, my son, and I miss your father.”

Sirius arched an eyebrow. “Why did you bring me here today?”

“Sirius,” she began. “I just want my family back. I want you to come back, to stay with me again.”

Now Sirius smirked, which was apparently not what she expected as she just looked at him, confused. “Oh? So you’re willing to overlook everything? You’re willing to accept me despite my status as a blood traitor?”

“Sirius... don’t you understand? Blood purity is everything. We’ve taught you that, at least, haven’t we?”

“You’ve taught me that I can take nothing you say at face value. You’ve taught me that deceit is the way you achieve your goals so I don’t believe you for one minute. And I don’t trust that you just want me back.

“And I remember that you were the one who burned me off the tapestry. Why would you want me to return?”

Walburga scowled at the mention of his removal from the tapestry. “That was a mistake, Sirius, and I should have thought through my actions before I did that. But that doesn’t matter. The family magic still burns bright in you and you still have access to the vaults because Orion never properly disowned you.”

Sirius’ eyes widened. This was news to him. As far as he was concerned, his father had cut him off completely. But then he narrowed his eyes. What would his mother care about the vaults and the magic? And she shouldn’t know how to ‘properly’ disinherit someone; that was a secret kept close to the head of the family’s chest. Unless━━

But that was impossible. Why would that happen? Walburga and Orion agreed on almost everything. But maybe, just maybe, Orion didn’t. He remembered his father’s expression when his mother spoke of the Death Eaters. When she couldn’t see, his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared in anger and disdain. Sirius had assumed it was because the Dark Lord was mentioned a lot during one of his mother’s━━Walburga’s━━rants about her elder son’s bad behavior. He probably was just angry at Sirius. Or bored of the rants. What if he actually was angry about the Death Eaters? That was the only thing the dog animagus could imagine his father disowning Walburga over. Orion would never go against his wife’s will, though. He knew that from experience. No matter how Walburga treated him and sometimes his brother, he never interfered. Even when he didn’t agree with the woman, he just stayed calm and collected. He let his wife lead his life.

However, he could see his father’s composure cracking and a monster of malice taking over. He wouldn’t do anything rash like attack her, be he would passively resist, doing simple things like withdrawing his funds from the Death Eater’s campaign and refusing to house any of Regulus’ former friends. Walburga could, plausibly, get angry enough to━━

No. No way.

“You don’t have control of the family magic anymore, do you?” he asked, abandoning his train of thought━━it was giving him a headache.

Walburga’s eyes narrowed and her hands, which had been resting on the table in front of her clenched into fists. “Of course not!”

Sirius could tell she was lying. She had a tell tale twitch of her eyebrows when she was dishonest.

“He disowned you, and you want me back so I can restore your name on the tapestry!” he blurted. He couldn’t believe it. Actually, he could. His mother was always a selfish woman and this was just another of her self serving acts. There was no kindness or forgiveness in her actions.

Walburga looked at a loss for words, for once in her life. “No! I━━”

“I don’t believe it! What would father say━━father... It can’t be...”

Sirius paled, but before he could say anything else, he stood and marched away from the booth. He vaguely heard Walburga mutter about him being a blood traitor as he went.

 

II.

 

Regulus stared at the wall across from him. He couldn’t see it though. Instead, he saw corpses. The corpses of people who had rotted away in this cellar before him. There was a screaming woman in the corner, one of her eyes hanging out of its socket, and an old man muttering about how he was a blood traitor and he was so sorry.

The blank expression on his face slowly faded to one of horror as a young man who couldn’t be older than sixteen hobbled over to him, arms outstretched, but tripped on the shackles around his feet and fell towards the Black. Regulus’ arms shot out to protect himself, but it was no use as the boy simply slid through him. When he did, the only living prisoner caught sight of his stomach; his hand was cupping a gaping wound and barely holding his entrails in. He fell against the wall and slid into Regulus and the Regulus wasn’t Regulus but Marius Black━━no, Marius the squib, as they called him. His father was whacking him with his walking stick because no, he couldn’t do magic and maybe they thought they could beat it into him. His mother was shoving him aside when he came to her with the little boat he had built while his sibling were doing stupid things. He was smart, smart enough to understand the books in the library by the time he was seven, but that was never good enough; he would never, never, never be good enough for his family and couldn’t they understand that even though he didn’t have magic, he was on par with a genius in other areas? No, no, no, they would never understand and he was pathetic and they were cruel and he just wanted to die, but not like this, never like this. Not in Abraxas Malfoy’s family dungeons and gods, he was going to die, he was going to die, he was going to━━it hurt it hurt it hurt and breathe, god dammit, why couldn’t he breathe oh god he was choking on his own blood and oh god it hurt and he would never see the light of day again━━

Regulus gasped as he was yanked out of the vision and into reality by the slamming of the door. It banged open and in strode Voldemort. Hadn’t he had enough of beating and belittling and cajoling his captive yet? Apparently not.

“Well, Regulus. It looks like we’re out of Veritaserum and I would hate to resort to... drastic measures.”

Regulus winced as the first spell hit.

 

III.

 

Psyche looked at Luvith, guiltily thinking of the boy she liberated from death. “I don’t understand. Why does he see these visions?”

Luvith sighed, a habit he seemed to be picking up. “Psyche, when you pulled his string out of fate, you had to exert a substantial amount of energy, no?”

Psyche nodded.

“Well, the strings represent the people themselves. In a sense, they are the essence of their energy. when you expended that energy, it did not just disappear. It was transferred. It was transferred into your boy.”

“So... basically, my energy became intertwined with his due to this, and he gained something akin to my abilities?”

Luvith smiled. “Yes, you smart woman. That is exactly what happened.”

“But... why can’t he control it? I can, so why can’t he?” she asked.

“My dear girl, how many years have you had to hone your skills?”

Psyche frowned. “No, it wasn’t like this at the beginning for me.”

Luvith could only say, “Then if I had to make a conclusion, I would say it’s because he is not familiar with this type of energy and his magic sees it as an invasion. The two energies are battling it out and Regulus suffers the consequences, which include uncontrolled visions and, if you’ve noticed, small magical outbursts.”

“I haven’t noticed any outbursts...”

“That’s because I can see the way energy moves and you cannot. I can see it exploding and imploding inside him. It must be very painful.”

Psyche grabbed his hand and he knew what she was about to plead without her even saying anything. “We must go to him━━”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“But we can help him! We can put a stop to his pain!”

Luvith seemed to grow taller and shadows outlined and pronounced his face. “NO. We will not interfere with his life anymore. If you so much as set a foot on the ground any time in his life, I will banish you!”

Psyche shrunk, but she understood and meekly nodded her head in affirmation.

 

IV.

 

Sirius had contacts in the Ministry. Specifically in the Auror’s department. He knew the man investigating his father’s death very well and the man happened to owe him a favor.

He was meeting with the man now. He had just arrived and Sirius waved to him.

“Sirius! It’s been a while!” he walked up and gave him a one armed hug.

Sirius smiled, “Yes, well, we’ve both been very busy. You with auror duty and me with, well... anyway, Doug, have you got the information?”

“Right down to business, are we? You know, I could get fired for this.”

Sirius sighed. “What do you want, Doug?”

Doug shrugged. “Oh, nothing. I just wanted you to feel guilty if I lose my job.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Doug snorted. “Well, anyway, you particularly wanted to know how your father died, right?”

Sirius nodded.

Doug grimaced and told him what he already knew: his father was stabbed in the back. And the weapon? He knew that weapon and he told Doug so. Ignoring the man’s shocked expression, he stumbled across the street and over to the Leaky Cauldron, where he flooed to James’ house. He fell and hit his chin on the carpet in front of the fireplace.

James and Lily seemed to have been having a romantic conversation on the couch, but when he appeared, they broke apart. He got up and stared at them.

“My mother killed my father,” he said. 


End file.
